


The Sapphire Conundrum

by cerie



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Victorian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-18
Updated: 2011-06-18
Packaged: 2017-10-20 12:37:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/212844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cerie/pseuds/cerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Magnus/Watson established relationship. Watson tries to coax Magnus out of mourning for John with inappropriate gifts and even more inappropriate proposals.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sapphire Conundrum

“You know I can’t accept this, right?”

Helen lightly trailed gloved fingers against a length of blue velvet upon which was set a necklace of sapphire and diamond set in a rose-colored gold. It was stunning, really, and she’d always loved the finest of things when it came to jewelry and fashion, but she couldn’t accept a gift like this from him and he had to know that; the only person more adept at navigating the complicated social laws of London society than she was James Watson, after all. Still, it was heartbreakingly lovely and she hated to turn it down with every fiber of her being.

She looked up to find James laughing warmly, one hand rubbing thoughtfully at his whiskered chin and the other drawing along the edges of the necklace. His eyes were sparkling with what Helen presumed was some manner of mischief and amusement and she imagined he was having quite the laugh at giving her a gift she could never, ever accept. Such a thing would be acceptable from a husband or fiancé, but never from a man society at large considered just a dear friend. And Helen herself? What did she consider James?

A friend, usually, especially when he offered her his arm at the theater or his overcoat on a particularly cold night. A confidante, when the nightmares about John plagued her sleep and she ended up on his doorstep well into the small hours of the night and well after a lady of her standing should ever be out of doors. But sometimes, when the wine flowed free or when those dreams left her so shaken she had to be given brandy to sleep, it was his hands hot on her body in the places where John had touched her and his lips at her throat, imbuing a warmth to her that she’d thought died out. He stoked her fires. Did that make him a poker, then? Helen shook her head and turned back to the matter at hand.

“It’s far too expensive to be a gift from a friend, James. This is something a man gives his wife. Fiancee, perhaps, but that’s even pushing it. Besides, I’m in mourning even still.”

It had been months since John had disappeared and he was presumed dead, if not at large and still killing. Society dictated that she wear widows’ weeds even if she’d never been a bride and it had been weeks and weeks of nothing but heavy black broadcloth and plain shoes and one measly jet and pearl broach loaned from a cousin and Helen had thumbed her nose at the tradition by wearing scandalous French lingerie beneath her heavy skirts. Nobody would see it but James, who’d bought it, and it made her feel a little better about mourning a man she privately thought wasn’t actually dead.

“Ah yes, society’s tendency to dress young widows in the most hideous attire possible lest they be courted by every man in a fifty mile radius. I had half forgotten and thought perhaps you’d just developed a penchant for black to set off the gold of your hair and the ivory of your skin.” Helen blushed in spite of herself; James had always been quick with his compliments and especially now that they were…whatever they were.

“You know as well as I do that if I dared step out of my house in something so light as brown it would be as scandalous as showing up at a wedding wearing crimson,” Helen said, frowning and touching the necklace again. It was such a lovely piece and James had picked wisely, given the sapphires would pick up the color of her eyes and set them off in a handsome way. Damn him for being perceptive enough to know sapphires were her favorites. Damn him.

“If you show up at a wedding in crimson, I’ll call you a study in scarlet and escort you myself,” James said firmly, causing Helen to frown deeper. Damn. She was well and truly stuck then, as James wouldn’t let her graciously decline the gift. She’d done this to herself by accepting his lingerie but that, at least, was something that nobody else would see. This announced ownership to everyone. What would they think?

James leaned in and whispered against her ear, his breath hot and his words positively obscene in tone if not vernacular. He was adept at twisting a word to suit his purposes, all of the Five were, but James was sharper than even the sharpest. Helen only hoped she wouldn’t cut herself in the end the way she had with John.

“Wear it to bed for me and I won’t bring it up again. I’ll buy you a nice, staid broach in keeping with your status in mourning. I never intended you to wear it outside my rooms anyway. I just wanted to see if you would. You’re far better than the constraints this society puts on you, Helen. I thought you were aware of that.”

She was floored and speechless, for once. It took her a few moments before she nodded and she imagined, had they never been to bed together before, she would be a lot more embarrassed. As it was, the flush was from anticipation more than anything else and she teased off one glove before reaching for James’ hand, squeezing it lightly.

“Then I accept your gift and the strings you’ve attached to it, James Watson. So long as you never propose to me, I think our arrangement will suit.” He laughed and tugged her into his arms, brushing a kiss against the top of her head. She’d amused him, somehow, and knowing his sense of humor Helen couldn’t imagine which thing she’d said that had plucked at him thus.

“Yes?” she asked after a long moment, her eyes boring into his in a failed attempt at divining an answer without posing the question.

“It’s hardly a business transaction. I don’t mix business and pleasure if I can help it, Helen.” He slid his hands up to cup her cheeks, mouth softening a little and eyes burning low with recently-stoked passions.

“You are quite possibly the most pleasurable thing I’ve ever had the luxury of tasting. I fear I won’t be able to quit your habit. Not easily. Indulge me?”

She smirked a little and kissed him, gathering the necklace in one hand and his hand in the other before tugging him upstairs to make good on her promises in the best way she knew how.


End file.
